


Unity

by thechaoscryptid



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fills [14]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dissociation, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22267060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechaoscryptid/pseuds/thechaoscryptid
Summary: It doesn’t matter that in the apartment, he sheds the mantle of admiral in favor of the familiar blanket of prisoner. In his home, he doesn’t have to hide the vacant looks and shudders that travel down his spine as memories resurface.Today, he just didn’t have the strength to be a leader.
Relationships: Pidge | Katie Holt/Shiro
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fills [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1391602
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Unity

**Author's Note:**

> For BTHB prompt Dissociation

Pidge comes home early on a day when the world is too much. Shiro’s body feels like static personified and the buzzing in his ears is slowly driving him into madness, and yet he can’t find it in himself to move, speak, do anything but watch as battles from the past rage on the blank TV screen. He can’t feel his extremities and he knows it should worry him, but it doesn’t matter.

He’s okay like this.

Static is better than nothing.

He hasn’t been into work today, which is probably why she’s standing in front of him now. There was intent to go–he’d gotten up, showered, sat to check his phone, and…

Lost most of the day.

These days always come after nights lost to nightmares. It’s fine the world thinks he’s well adjusted, he likes to tell himself. They rely on him because he is kind, capable, and _good_ at what he does. He leads fearlessly, because that’s what he’s always _had_ to do. 

It doesn’t matter that in the apartment, he sheds the mantle of admiral in favor of the familiar blanket of _prisoner._ In his home, he doesn’t have to hide the vacant looks and shudders that travel down his spine as memories resurface. 

Today, he just didn’t have the strength to be a leader.

He swallows as he registers his name–soft, at first, then worried as Pidge makes her way past the dining table to block his view of the TV. “ _Shiro,_ you’ve got to be freezing. Put on a blanket, at least.”

Shiro’s neck seems to grind as it moves, as though stone has replaced the static and he’s nothing more than a statue trying to mime its way into life when he looks up. “Why?”

“Because it’s early March, you’re shirtless, and your window’s been open for god knows how long.” Pidge chews on her lip as she tugs the blanket from the back of the couch and tucks it around Shiro’s shoulders. It’s so _heavy,_ pressing down on him like the weight of the world, and he has to remind himself to _breathe. “_ You didn’t show today. We were supposed to test that new ship.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” she says quietly. The couch dips as she sits, narrowly avoiding his feet before putting an arm around him. It doesn’t quiet fit, so she settles for rubbing small circles along the line of his spine. “I didn’t know where you went, and this is the earliest I could get away from the airstrip,” she continues. “And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Shiro tries looking, he really does, but it’s too much effort. His head tips sideways until his cheek is resting on a nest of unruly hair and he’s catching the vaguest hint of coconut. He knows it should be clearer, almost overpowering, but he thinks that if it registered now, it might break down the fragile scaffolding keeping the pieces of his mind where they’re supposed to be. 

“Was it Zarkon?” Pidge murmurs.

A purple-furred face pops to the forefront of Shiro’s mind, clear as day, but it takes just short of forever to put a name to it. “The arena,” he says slowly. “Sendak.”

“Bastard.”

Shiro shuts his eyes and lets his weight sink into the warmth beside him, pushing Pidge further into the couch as he nods, barely. He wishes it were easier–that his tongue wasn’t leaden in his mouth, that he could hug her like he wants to, and that life was _easy_ instead of this endless cycle of static and normalcy.

Normal is probably too strong a word for what they, and the rest of the paladins in turn, have carved out for themselves.

Pidge shoves her glasses further up her nose and sighs, but it’s not the disapproving one that so often falls from her lips. It’s one of understanding, one that somehow manages to encompass _I wish it could be okay_ in a single sound. “We haven’t had a night in for a while.”

“Mn.”

Her hand moves up and down, up and down as Shiro’s mind slowly begins to right itself. He feels the cold now–barely, but it’s enough that he shivers when Pidge’s warm fingers burn the bare skin of his neck. “You’re going to get sick, Shiro,” she breathes, “pushing yourself so hard.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, so he just buries his face further in her hair and presses his lips to here temple. Somehow, he manages to snag her fingers with his and when he does, he catches a smile ghosting across her face. “Are you telling me I need rest?”

“I’m _ordering_ you rest, hon.” Pidge cups Shiro’s cheek to turn his face toward hers, and when he registers the concern in her eyes, he rests their foreheads together. “I’ll take care of you tonight.”

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” he whispers, lips barely brushing against hers. “Take care of that, first.”

“Oh, please,” she says, feigning lightness in her tone. “You’re big enough to cover the whole plate yourself, you know that.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you.” Her thumb brushes over the edge of Shiro’s scar to ground him, and it works well enough. “Come to bed, at least. It’s warm there, and comfortable if you need to keep doing what you’re doing. If not, I’ll be working on some reports until you come back down. Okay?”

Shiro smiles. It’s a tiny, quiet thing, but he _manages_ it, and that is enough. “Really,” he says. “Thank you. For being here.”

“Of course I’m here, dork. My name’s on the lease too,” she teases. “We kind of did it together, it was a whole thing?”

“You know what I mean.” Shiro’s arms come around her as she slides into his lap, draping herself across his chest like a cat. He nuzzles into her neck and earns himself a sharp squeak as his nose makes contact with the underside of her jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Shiro, come hell or high water. We’re in this together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
> You can also find me lurking and yelling about fictional characters on:  
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